


Pip

by DrunkenOracle



Series: Fallout Four Ficlets [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:19:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkenOracle/pseuds/DrunkenOracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Marlowe and Hancock met Pip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pip

“Charmer, huh?”

Marlowe looked over to Hancock when he broke the comfortable silence in which they’d been walking for some hours. “Is there something wrong with the codename I chose?”

Hancock grinned. “Nah, not at all.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Would you have picked something different for me?”

“Now, I don’t know about all that, Smiles.” He shrugged and slung one arm around her waist, pulling her in close as they walked. “Charmer fits you pretty well, to be perfectly honest. I was just surprised you were aware of it is all.”

She smiled at him, though her eyebrow didn’t lower. “I was trained as an actress, Hancock. I know full well just how charismatic I am.”

“Aaah, I get it now. You’ve been bamboozling the rest of us into thinking you’re just that sweet.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she pressed closer to Hancock, her face just inches from his cheek, and she was about to say something when they both stopped short, alert, and looked farther up the path they’d been walking.

“What the hell is going on up there?” Hancock wondered aloud, started closer.

Marlowe scowled and instinctively checked that her pistols and rifle were all where they were supposed to be before running ahead of Hancock. It didn’t take long for the blur in the distance to resolve itself into a Deathclaw snarling and swiping up at… something in a tree. A cat, maybe? They stopped where they were, not wanting to get too close to the damned thing if it wasn’t necessary.

“Shit…” Hancock spat the word and glanced over to Marlowe. “What do you wanna do, Smiles?”

She glanced at him then back at the Deathclaw and, not taking her eyes off it, pulled sniper rifle off her back.

“You can’t kill that thing in one shot, Marlowe.”

“I’m not going to,” she hissed. I wanna see what it’s trying to get at.” She raised the rifle and put her eye to the scope and steadied as well as she could. “Shit. Shit I can’t get a clear look.” A huff of breath passed her lips and she moved close to Hancock and steadied the rifle on his shoulder. “Don’t breathe.” And then she looked through the scope again. It wasn’t a cat. It was, in fact, a person. Just a kid, no older than a teenager, surely, and they were taking pot shots at the Deathclaw from the top of the tree.

“Fuck.” It was her turn to spit words as she dropped the sniper rifle from Hancock’s shoulder and slung it back over her shoulder. “Get a molotov ready; we’re going in.”

Hancock eyed her, curious, but did as she said. “What’d you see?”

“There’s someone up that tree. The Deathclaw might lose interest, but not if they keep shooting it, and they’ll run out of bullets long before it’s down. It might even start trying to uproot the tree if it goes on long enough.” She sighed and reached for the incendiary pistol at her side. “Is your flamer loaded?”

“Always.”

They were close enough, finally, for Marlowe to feel uncomfortable near the Deathclaw, but it still hadn’t noticed them… Or maybe it had, it was just preoccupied with the kid still shooting it from the treetop.

“Maybe if I’m lucky I’m just tripping on bad mentats…” Hancock and Marlowe exchanged glances and then Hancock tossed the molotov.

 

* * *

 

Marlowe sucked in a sharp breath as she slammed a stimpak into her leg. Deathclaw fights never really seemed to get easier, no matter how many she’d encountered. She came to the conclusion that the only safe way to fight a Deathclaw was with a minigun from aboard a Vertibird. Still, the damned thing was dead, and she was sitting on its corpse, tending her wounds, before she finally looked back up the tree. The kid was still there.

“...How the fuck did you get up there, kid?” She reached for the bottle of bourbon Hancock held out to her. It’d become routine for them to open one anytime they fought something they regretted engaging.

The kid in the tree shrugged and then all Marlowe could see was the blur of his blonde mop of hair as he somehow expertly scaled back down to the ground.

She swallowed back some bourbon and pushed her free hand up under her glasses to rub her eyes. “Right. You got a name, kid?”

He sort of glanced from Marlowe to Hancock and back, eyes a little wider than he probably thought they were. “I, uh… name is Pip.” His voice was quieter than Marlowe expected.

She smiled softly. “You goin’ somewhere, Pip?”

He just shook his head.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Hancock stepped forward a bit more. “We were heading back to the drive-in. It’s safe there.”

Pip eyed Hancock warily, hesitant, and then nodded.

Marlowe grinned and pressed the bottle of bourbon back into Hancock’s hand and threw her arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get going then! We might make it by sundown if we hurry.”


End file.
